It Began Innocently Enough

It began innocently enough, I suppose. Joshua was a nice young man, from a good home halfway across the country. He was the first of his family to attend college. While he excelled in the classroom, the adjustment to college life sometimes left him struggling to make sense of his place in a world far removed from the simple, straightforward environment of his rural Virginia roots.

It was shortly into his second semester that he came to my office after class and peeked his head around the corner of the open door. His tightly curled mop gave him a unique look that I caught in my peripheral vision. "Come on in Josh," I said without looking up as I continued grading a rather unimpressive research piece on the explosion of consumer technology.

"Mind if I close the door, Dr. C?"

The tone of his voice got my attention immediately. His normally bright, go-get-em timbre was absent, replaced with a reserved and almost melancholy tone; melodic and beautiful, but sad.

"Of course, Josh, I'm sorry. Please have a seat. What's eating at you?"

"I miss home, Dr. C. I miss home bad. I miss mom's cookin' and working in the yard with my dad." Josh pulled up the chair and sat at the corner of my desk, leaning in and clasping his hands together on the worn, water-stained oak desktop.

"I miss my little sister being a pain in my ass. I miss Sunday dinner with the family around the table for hours, talking about everything. I thought it was the most boring thing in the world when I had it, and now....now I just want to go home.

Don't get me wrong, I'm loving college as far as classes and stuff. I'm excited about what I'm learning, but I go back to the dorm at night and it's just...it's just lonely. I have friends, we go do stuff. It's fun sometimes, but it's not home. It's not people I'm close to, not people I want to be close to.

You're the closest thing I have to someone who cares about me like my family does, Dr. C. It's not your job to make my college life, good, but...." Josh sighed heavily and his damp eyes met mine. I smiled and reached out to grip his forearms with both of my hands, squeezing supportively.

"You'll get through this, Josh. It sounds like you have the kind of home life that most folks today never get to experience. Your pain is the sweet pain of intimacy removed. Being surrounded by people who will always be honest with you and trust you is a precious thing. You're going to have a chance to build that for your children someday, using your degree to provide for them. Hang in there. Use this struggle to find who you are without that comfort of family."

I leaned back and studied him a bit. He was a handsome young man with almost a Mediterranean look about him. His skin was a light olive complexion, and his dark, tight curls framed his face, almost making his intense green eyes appear to be peering out from under a fur hood.

"I tell you what, Josh. Come see me tomorrow. I have an idea I want to run by someone that I think might help. Deal?"

"Deal!" he exclaimed enthusiastically, pulling his arms back to take my hands in his own and squeeze them in unstated thanks. He jumped up, his eyes shining with that unique light of hope through the residue of sadness.

"Dr. C?" he asked as he passed out through the doorway. I was still looking at him, smiling.

"Yes Josh?"

"Thanks, for listening. Even if your idea doesn't pan out, it helps just to talk to someone who gives a damn." Now it was my turn for my tear ducts to produce. I simply nodded with a warm smile and met his gaze briefly before turning back to my papers.

"Damn, I do love my job some days," as I turned my eyes back to grading.

The idea was to create an after church Sunday dinner atmosphere for Josh, and Molly had outdone herself: our best china on the table, cloth napkins, roast beef with rich brown gravy, and country style mashed potatoes. Though he was a year or two shy of 21, I broke the rules a bit and brought out a growler of my own stout beer to balance out the flavors.

Josh wore his Sunday best, a simple olive cotton button down that picked up the color of his eyes, tan slacks, and loafers that had seen their fair share of Sundays. I wore one of my better suits and my favorite tie.

Molly outdid us all. The sable fabric of her dress caressed her 27 year old frame with an elegant shimmer. She was the image of a woman who understood and appreciated the beauty of her own body. The pearls I had given her on our anniversary draped into her décolletage in three cascading loops, echoing the curve of the fabric from lovely shoulders to just the barest hint of cleavage. Her hips echoed the same curve against the fabric, pulling it a caress of her stomach that bore yet another oh-so-subtle curve, proclaiming her femininity in the most alluring of ways.

It was no wonder Josh's eyes grew big as saucers when he answered the door. Molly wasn't trying to be sexy, she was trying to be maternal and protective, but there's no denying the sensuality of a woman that knows and loves herself.

Dinner was a wonderful, three hour affair. Josh's eyes started to glimmer once again, and I sat back and watched with joy as he bonded with Molly. I got to see a humorous side of his personality that never shows up in class, and he had Molly in stiches through most of desert. My smile went from ear to ear as two important parts of my world came together in a way that helped to heal the loneliness Josh had been feeling.

Josh left early to study and, as we loaded the last of the dishes into the racks of the dishwasher, I caught her hand, licking a dollop of gravy from her thumb, and pulled her to me. My hands slid down her sides and onto her hips as her arms slid around my frame. "Thank you, lover. That was a perfect gift for Josh." I kissed her deeply as I pulled her to me, her curves fitting against me in a way that made the gravy seem bland.

She returned my thanks with an eager tongue, then slipped her left hand into my right and let me toward the bedroom with a playful grin that only meant good things to come. Her hand slipped from mine and to her hips....slowly teasing the fabric of her dress up as she walked. I watched the hem work from the middle of her toned thighs to cup the cleft of her ass just as she turned the corner into our bedroom. The dress wasn't the only thing rising quickly.

I entered the room to find her leaning back against the post of the bed.....beckoning with her finger. Just a hint of red silk between her thighs displayed the curve of her lips and yet again, her choice of clothing radiated her sensuality.

"I took excellent care of Josh for you today, honey, now it's your turn". She grabbed my tie and tugged down with a wicked grin, as she raised her left leg, spreading it and hooked a heel into the bedframe. My hands reached for her right calf as I planted gentle kisses on the inside of her left knee. Fingers fluttered slowly up her leg as my lips worked their way to her center slowly, leaving a trail of blushing, damp, circles on her skin as I gently nibbled my way up her smooth inner thigh.

She moaned softly as my lips reached fingertips slid up her right let...brushing the edge of the red satin. My fingertips felt the heat radiating from her intensely and I broke my concentration on her thigh to look at her presented sex.

"My god honey", I exclaimed. Her labia were engorged, stretching the satin, which was dark and wet with her arousal.

From my position at her feet, I looked up at my gorgeous wife. Her right arm was extended above her head, wrapped around the wooden bedpost. During my attentions to her leg she had freed her shoulders and 34C breasts from the top of her dress and the fingers of her left hand were attending to her nipples...pinching....twisting....flicking. She looked down at me with fire in her eyes and moved her hand to the back of my head. She hissed "I said...it's your turn" and pressed my face roughly into the red, wet strip of fabric.

In our five years of marriage, I'd never experienced Molly taking such an aggressive role in the bedroom, nor had I ever seen her arousal be so physically evident.

Despite the fifteen years between us, Molly and I had an active sex life. We typically made love 4 or 5 times a week, sometimes twice a day on a nice, relaxing weekend. At 43, I was still in good shape, with lithe muscles, and while I carried more weight than I wanted to, my stomach was still relatively flat. Molly was an exceptionally sexy 27 year old woman, with shoulder length auburn hair, amazing green eyes, and long legs than ended at the perfectly curved ass that could have belonged to a 19 year old volleyball player.

She had been the younger friend and mentee of my first wife, Lora. Lora had taken Molly under her wing as a freshman at college and nurtured her, giving her job experiences at the non-profit community action organization she ran. Molly had blossomed under Lora's guidance and had become part of our family, so much so that when Lora became ill, Molly moved in with us, helping me care for her as the cancer got progressively worse.

We converted Lora's downstairs office to a bedroom for Molly and installed a voice activated intercom between it, the master bedroom, and the upstairs guest room, where I took up residence. I kept teaching to keep our insurance active and Molly took care of the non-profit. We both cared for Lora. We were both crushed when she slipped away from us.

Molly helped me a great deal through the visitation and funeral. She took care of logistics. I greeted friends and family. Lora had been so open about Molly's place in our life that there wasn't any whispering or staring when the stunning young woman held my hand at my wife's casket and kissed my cheek as we both wept. The day of the funeral, we ushered the last guests from the front room after supper and collapsed into easy chair and couch, sitting across from each other in the kind of empty silence that only intense grieving brings.

The clock struck 7 and we both startled and laughed a bit.

"I don't know when I'll be able to go through her things, Molly. I just...I just don't know."

Molly stood and looked at me with gentle eyes before she crossed the room and took my hand in mind. "Come on," she said, "I'll help you."

Neither of us to this day have any idea how nor when Lora wrote the note. It was addressed to both of us, and the shaky penmanship was a jarring reminder of how badly her body had been ravaged. We sat on the edge of the bed and read together. Lora's penchant for taking care of others survived even her death and we both sat in stunned silence on the edge of the bed as we read her final instructions. We were to keep our current living arrangements, to care for each other, to love each other through this emotionally, and physically. Physically. Molly and I looked at each other, mouths open, and shook our heads in disbelief at Lora's capacity to love us both.

We honored the first part of the request immediately. Exhausted emotionally and physically, I folded the note and Molly opened the drawer to return it to its place in the dresser. She kissed my cheek and left the bedroom. I could hear her gentle footfalls as she descended the steps to the basement bedroom where she'd taken up residence the last few months. I looked around the room and sighed, headed to the guest room.

It was a month before we actually slept in the same bed, and another month before we were intimate.

The rumor mill was flying around us, but we didn't care. Our bodies were telling us what Lora had already known, that we were to be together, at least until our hearts were whole again. Six months later, we were married. Some friends celebrated with us, some quietly distanced themselves, and some actively criticized, but we knew Lora was happy with how we were carrying out her last request.

Five years later, I was on my knees worshipping my young wife's sex, experiencing her in a whole new way. She pushed on the top of my head to bring my face away from her panties, my nose and lips shimmering with her juices oozing through the fabric. Her right hand came down and she pulled them aside. My cock twitched as I saw her neatly trimmed pubic hair, matted in juices. She pulled me back to in and sighed as my tongue wriggled its way into the folds of her arousal.

She reached down and grabbed my tie again, pulling me forcibly against her as she rode my face....hips riding my tongue lewdly as she held onto the top of the post with her free hand. "My God!" I thought, as she rode me. "What's gotten into her?" Molly normally tasted wonderful, but this was ambrosia, rich, thick, and heady. My neck ached as pulled the tie taught....bucking merciless as her body shook in orgasm.

She finally release me as she trembled in afterglow, looking down at me with glassy eyes as she laid face down on the bed, long sexy legs dangling off in an open V stance, before reaching back with both hands to spread her pussy and murmuring "fuck me, Ryan. I need cock".

Not needing to be told twice, I stood and reached down to unzip my suit pants when I noticed for the first time that my cock and balls were damp with pre-cum, soaking my boxer briefs and making the fabric of my slacks cling to my tent in a dark, damp spot near the head of my cock. "Molly isn't the only one more aroused than usual tonight", I thought to myself as my pants and sodden shorts fell around my ankles.

Molly's opened lips were glistening wet and red hot. Her dressed was gathered about her waist like a belt. Reaching forward, I grabbed her dress and shoved my stiff dick into my wife's pussy in one wet, full thrust.

It didn't take long. A minute or two of grunting, pounding, passionate sex and she exploded again, drenching my balls with her juices. It was her language that send me over the edge. "Fuck me, Ryan, fuck me hard. Fill my pussy with seed." That did it.....I exploded in jet after jet of thick, rich, semen right into her womanhood, then collapsed atop her, as we both gasped for breath.

We kissed deeply and quietly undressed, each internally processing the intensity of our unusual sexual experience. We climbed into bed and she crawled up onto my shoulder, sliding her fingers through the thick curls of my chest hair.

"I'm sorry", she whispered quietly, her body tense beside me.

I stroked her back tenderly, whispering back "I'm not". Her shoulders trembled slightly in relief.

"I was a little angry, Ryan", she whispered. She looked up into my eyes, open and questioning. "Joshua was....looking at me tonight, and I was angry that you let such a young, handsome man into our home. We haven't had any younger, single guests in the house since...." She didn't need to finish the sentence. She had been the last young, single guest in the house.

I wrapped my arms around her body and squeezed her tenderly, whispering "I'm sorry, we won't have him back then." "No", she cried! "He didn't do anything wrong, and neither did you. I'm used to men looking at me longingly, just....just not in our home. It didn't feel safe."

"Honey?" I asked with concern in my voice, "Was Josh inappropriate in his attentions?"

She sighed heavily and snuggled into my body for safety. "No," she whispered quietly, "he was very discrete." "He was just being a normal young man, and polite at that." She looked up at me. "It was my reaction that didn't feel safe."

I whispered quietly into the silence that followed her remark, "I loved it."

She rolled quickly onto my chest to look directly into my eyes. "What?" My eyes could barely meet hers as I told her of my own physical reaction and soaked boxer briefs. Her concern changed to her playful grin as I told her how much I loved her taking charge in the moment. As I was telling her how arousing her puffy, soaked, pussy lips had been, she slid her leg over my hips and straddled me, breast hanging tantalizing me in front of my face as she braced her hands on either side of my face.

"It's still puffy and soaked", she whispered as she drew her hips forward, trapping my now responding cock between her labia and my stomach. "This time it's wet from cum, but I'm getting juicy again myself. Think you can go another round, old man?" She rocked back and forth on me, lubricating my shaft and my stomach with our lovemaking.

My cock was steadily coming back to life as she made a display of her breasts swaying with her erotic rhythm. She leaned down and whispered lustily into my ear "I bet Joshua recovers really quickly." That did it....my cock immediately went fully turgid and erect. Molly caught the head with the angle of her hips and slid down onto the shaft with a blissful sigh. "Mmmmmm, she moaned, "you really like the idea of your wife making him look, don't you baby?"

Her nipples were fully erect and her areola were puffy, which I had never seen. My hands moved to her hips, but she reached back and grabbed my wrists, pinning my hands above my head as she shook her head, auburn hair tossing like a model on a photoshoot. Her hips worked me like a porn star, using my rigid staff to lever my cockhead over her Gspot on the upstroke and then rolling forward to impale herself as she slammed back down on my shaft.

"He's such a sweet boy, Ryan, I bet he's wanting to jack off, thinking of how I look naked, right now. I wonder if he's able to resist that urge." Her comments jerked my eyes from her swinging breasts to find her green eyes looking lustily at me as I watched her orgasm begin. She ground on me lustily as her head tilted back, her pussy milking my shaft in its contractions. "Fill me, Ryan", she hissed, and I obeyed, my balls contracting almost painfully to give her all they had, injecting the thin, milky liquid of my second orgasm of the night into her already soaked depths.

Molly continued to milk my exhausted cock, eliciting a delightful soreness that made me groan and shiver. She came to rest on my chest, face tucked into my neck as settled into child's pose atop me. As my shaft shrank, our juices started leaking onto and around my scrotum, tickling as they slowly dripped down between my ass cheeks. To my own surprise, I found myself trying to work my hips open under Molly's embrace, shivering with delight as the first droplet caressed my anus before sleep overtook me.